Contents

Change of Life

"Did ya finish feeding the animals?"

"Yes!" Rannow said sharply to her father. "The Yak is fed, the Jabberjaw is fed, the Spinner is fed, the chickens are fed." It was the same everyday. She was in charge of tending the animals, her mother and father did the harvesting. Her mom had already milked the yak in the early hours of the day. Her father harvested spines and scales from the dragons. Her other siblings were too young to do much of anything except run free and learn what not to get into.

Her father carefully hand-drilled a hole into a thick jabberjaw quill. The inside was somewhat hollow, since the Jabberjaw had poison in side. Into the drill hole Rannow's father screwed in a hand-made wood dowel. He was making arrows. Jabberjaw spines made excellent arrowheads, especially if one wanted it tipped with a toxin, say, like a dragon root mixture. Arrows and spears and other pointy weapons in various states of creation, littered his weaponsmith workshop.

Rannow picked up a bright orange quill and twirled it absently around. "So can I let out Citrine?"

Her father didn't bother lifting his eyes to look at her. It was the same argument he had frequently with his teenage daughter. "No," he said simply.

"But the yak gets to go out to pasture to graze and do ... yak things. Why can't the dragon?" Of course she was talking about the Jewel Spinner, not the crotchity Jabberjaw.

"She has food, water, and shelter, just what every animal needs. Dragons are too dangerous to let run loose," he replied, nodding toward his peg leg.

"Yeah, well you must have done something for a dragon to chew your leg off!" Rannow shot back. She hadn't realized her mother had come in, looking for more scales to add to an intricate shawl she was sewing. She popped her smartly across the mouth.

"You'll not talk to your father like that! That dragon was stealing the sheep, and right before they were due to be sheared. So he fought back and that's what it got him as a lad. Had a lean Winter for it and barely scrapped by with so little to sell for food," her Mother chided, face softening a smidge.

Rannow glared at the light slap. "But-"

"Go rub down the dragon," her father ordered quietly.

Rannow left the workshop in a huff.

Her mother watched her go. "She's gonna give some boy a run for his gems one day."

Her father stood up and stretched, then went over and pecked his wife on the cheek. "Just like her mother, eh?"

She giggled like the girl she once was. "Those thieves Amos and Berthel she hangs around in the Market are filling her head with dragon nonsense. Aren't you worried at all? You know she talks to the beasts all the time and even sits on the dragon's back sometimes."

"She'll figure out her place, love."

Rannow walked up to the shed that the old grumpy Jabberjaw was kept in. "I have an apple for you!" she called out, starting before she reached the dutch door. Brambles didn't seem to see very well, but responded to her voice. Sometimes. His behavior was as erratic as a squirrel zig-zagging across a cobble-stone road ahead of a horse-drawn cart. But he seemed to understand when she said 'apple', and she brought him one of the sour crab-apples from the old bush behind their house. She briefly recalled when both she and the bush were younger, making apple tarts and selling them at her father's weapon stall at the market.

Rannow opened the top door and tossed in the apple. Brambles barked and sniffed around on the dirt floor for the apple. Once he found it, he grabbed it up in his wide jaws and tossed it up in the air and let it fall to the ground again, only to sniff it out and toss it again. There was a thunk on the wall to her right, as he absently ejected a quill at her general direction. Brambles's quills had grown long and thick. It was almost time to harvest them, a feat Rannow's father accomplished periodically by tossing in some sedative gas into the shed. He then carefully pulled out all the Jabberjaw's quills so as not to damage the follicles. Even the tiny ones came out - they made effective hypodermic needles for creatures with soft skin, skin like humans. Of course he milked the spines of their venom first, which also brought a decent price at market. Sometimes Rannow even helped him. They were careful not to injure the dragon, since an injured unkempt dragon would lessen the yield of spines.

Brambles finally crunched on the apple. He took his time and macerated it between his teeth, before finally swallowing it. Rannow closed up the shed. The dragon didn't get to go out in the sun, much less get to stretch his wings. Though, like her father said, Rannow didn't doubt that Brambles would probably fly away and never come back, but not before spraying quills all around.

Citrine the Jewel Spinner, on the other hand, was a friendly beast. as she approached the dragon's high-walled paddock, she could hear her flapping, flapping, flapping. A strong iron chain was always attached to a manacle on her leg. The expense of dragon-proof chains were not necessary for a Jewel Spinner, as long as she wasn't fed certain things. It was long enough for her to walk around and flap into the air just above the ground. She could reach her stall and reach her food and water. She had her basic needs met, which is a lot more than other dragons had, or other livestock for that matter. Everything except the freedom to fly on her large wings, and companionship. There was a log in her pen, which she endlessly chewed on like a bored dog chews on a bone.

Rannow stepped up to the pen and Citrine set her four feet back on the ground. She chirruped at the girl and moved forward to greet her. While Brambles had been around as long as Rannow could remember, the girl was just old enough to recall her father bringing home the frightened, dirty, half-grown dragon. It had taken a large sum to purchase her, and Rannow also recalled skimpy meals for the family the rest of the year. Now Citrine was a young adult, and pretty social, if one spent time with her. An exfoliated dragon is a happy dragon. Rannow had heard that from somewhere, but she had already figured out dragons - well at least Citrine - liked to be scrubbed, cleaned, and her hide oiled down. The skin and scale care also happened to allow the dragon to grow premium spines that were stronger and more durable, and commanded better prices. Rannow pulled out a very stiff brush and scrubbed on her scales. Old ones flaked off and new ones behind them peaked out. She slid onto the dragon's back to reach her high-up places.

"You wouldn't fly away, would you?" Rannow murmured. What was it like to fly through the air? She had heard the stories of the distant Hooligan Tribe riding dragons. Once she had seen them from a distance at the market. Her father had said that dragons had to be harnessed like horses to control and as unpredictable as a wild one. Berthel said he had seen those Dragon Riders, and they had on saddles, but no chains or muzzles or bridles. The dragons were so well trained, they almost _wanted_ to be with their Riders, as if they choose to stay with them. Like giant scaly dogs.

As if Citrine could sense what she was thinking about, the dragon pumped her wings and lifted off the ground again, with Rannow seated on her shoulders. Rannow could feel the muscles bunching and stretching. Then the dragon set back down on the ground, and Rannow continued to scrub the dragon, then wipe her down with a cloth and oil. The old scales that came off, ones that weren't too off color and brittle, Rannow collected to take to her mother.

The next day, her father rolled in a purple packet into Brambles's shed. A strange purple gas was released and floated into the air. It was a dragon sedative of some sort Rannow's father got from the market. It wasn't supposed to harm the dragon, just knock them out so they could be handled safely. Today they were going to harvest the Jabberjaw's spines, all of them. Brambles grunted but didn't make much fuss, as this was nothing new. His beady eyes grew heavy and he laid down and slept. Her father pulled him out into the sun and propped him up in a comfortable position. He had on gloves and a glass pot with some soft leather stretched over it. One by one he milked the big quills, the ones with the venom in them. It was non-fatal, but when it touched skin it burned like nettle stings concentrated a thousand fold. They then started carefully plucking first the long and large spines but giving a small twist at the base. These were ready at any time to shoot out anyway. The smaller spines took a little more finagling, since they weren't quite ready to come out. Father and daughter even harvested the very tiny young spines. These were still hollow, and were sharp enough to puncture the soft skin of humans. As such they could function like a hypodermic needle.

Afterward Rannow smoothed on some lavender-infused oil all over his body and rubbed it in well. Now he was ready to move back to his shed before he woke up. Except her father clamped on an iron collar and box muzzle first. Rannow hadn't seen the muzzle before, and Bramble had never worn one.

"What's that for?" he asked. They typically worked in relative silence, and the words sounded jarring on an otherwise quiet day.

Rannow's father didn't look up at her. "He's getting old, Rannow." His voice sounded tired. He knew what was coming.

Rannow had a tight spot forming in her belly. "Yeah? Dragons like a long time don't they? This was a pretty good harvest," she pointed out, gesturing at the variety of orange, yellow, and brown spines.

"I'm taking him to market tomorrow," her father stated, hauling the dragon back to the shed. Bramble twitched a little; he was starting to come back to consciousness.

Rannow frowned "But why?" she asked dumbly, knowing what he meant but trying not to.

Her father suddenly picked up a large quill and swung it strongly against a wood post. Spine thwacked into the wood but didn't break. It did, however crack and splinter at the spot of impact. He tossed the quill on the ground. "That's why."

The sudden aggressive display made Rannow flinch and stay quiet. A good quality spine was not supposed to fracture like that. Weapons and other items made from them wouldn't be very durable, and worth less. Perhaps Brambles was getting too old.

"You don't keep a chicken that doesn't lay eggs anymore, or a yak that doesn't produce milk," her father explained the obvious as he gathered up the spines. He turned and walked back to his shop, leaving Rannow staring at the ground.

Rannow waited until she could hear the snores of her father and the moon was high up in the sky, before slipping quietly out of the door. She had her thickest coat on, a dagger, and a couple items from Berthel: a small roughly-sketched map and a small pouch with a few dragon scales and a few bits of rocks said to have been kissed by dragon flames. She stopped by the old crab apple tree and added a couple under-ripe fruit, before continuing to Citrine's pen.

The dragon chirruped at her quizzically when she entered the pen at such an odd time. "Okay," Rannow took a deep breath to steady her nerves. She was going to do this. Bramble didn't deserve to be dragon mince meat or whatever happened to dragons with 'no value'. But she couldn't deal with the ornery dragon on her own. And Citrine so desperately wanted to fly ...

"Okay, girl. We've gotta do this," Rannow said mostly to herself. She reached into the pouch and pulled out a bit of rock Berthel had found. He claimed it had been licked by the infamous Night Fury on one of his visits to the Northern Markets. Mostly it looked like a bit of charred stone from a house foundation. Supposedly, when a Jewel Spinner was given a piece of rock that had been touched by dragon breath, the Spinner took on that dragon's firepower for a short time. Rannow had never seen it happen, and was forbidden to try. She mimed eating the rock and then held it out to Citrine. The dragon shifted uneasily. She sniffed at the pebble and reluctantly took it in her mouth and shifted it about, and then it disappeared. Nothing happened. Rannow held out another charred pebble. Citrine took it, moved it around her mouth, and it disappeared. Rannow tried a third time, and yet again, nothing happened. "Well someone wasn't telling the truth," Rannow muttered in irritation. She fished around in the bag and pulled out a red bit of crumbly clay with some soot on it. She had picked this up herself and seen a Nadder breathe fire on the ground near the docks as it was being loaded on a Hunter ship. She held up the bit to Citrine. The dragon opened her mouth and Rannow noticed her gums bulging a bit. "What? Did you stick those rocks between your teeth?" she exclaimed in surprise. "Are you like a chipmunk?" Citrine licked the chunk of clay from her hand, but it started crumbling and getting tacky on her tongue. She had no choice but to swallow. Rannow stepped back, just in case it actually worked. Citrine stared at her waiting to see what else she pulled out of her pouch. The dragon smacked her lips a little like her mouth was bothering her, but then again she had just put rocks between her teeth ...

A moment passed. Then Citrine burped and smacked her lips some more, almost like she was nauseous. She bowed her head and belched again, only to have white flames tumble out over the ground. Both girl and dragon jumped back in surprise. She burped again and a gout of fire, hot Nadder fire, shot out.

"Oh my Thor. It worked!" Rannow smiled at the dragon. Citrine looked decidedly worried. Having been caught at a young age, she either had forgotten, or never learned her kind had this ability. The urgency of the situation quickly settled around Rannow's shoulders though, and she dashed over to the chain hooked to the manacle on Citrine's leg. She gestured as best she could for the dragon to flame at the chain. Citrine whined, and bent her head as if to retch again. The white hot flames spewed out over the chain. It heated up into an orange glow. "Yes! That's it!" Rannow encouraged excitedly. "Once more!" Citrine wasn't sure what the girl's enthusiasm was for, but spit up the flames again on the chain. The chain flashed to a color as hot as the flame and snapped.

Rannow grabbed up the chain before she lost her nerve, looped it loosely around the dragon's neck and climbed aboard her back. "Okay, let's go! Fly up and we'll get Brambles and fly him away!" She gripped her knees tight around Citrine's shoulders and tensed up, waiting for her to spring into the air. The dragon swiveled her head around and blinked at her in confusion. This was not the usual time nor method of getting a good rub down. Rannow pointed up to the sky, but Citrine just whined. Rannow sat there for a moment, wondering how to get Citrine to understand that she needed to fly. But then again, once they were in the air, how was she going to communicate that they needed to grab Bramble, too? Rannow slid off her back, and gently took the chain and tugged on it for Citrine to follow her. Brambles' shed wasn't that far, after all. Citrine reluctantly followed, looking all about her.

The Jabberjaw was grunting angrily to himself in his shed and banging the basket muzzle against the wooden walls. He had not woken up very well, what with his face caged in the boxy muzzle. Rannow led Citrine over to the shed, then reached over and swung open the door to it. Scuttling back to the yellow dragon, she jumped aboard and waited. Citrine rumbled questioningly. A few moments later, the angry Bramble charged out of the shed, flinging his head about grunting and growling. Bramble thrashed about in place, then paused suddenly, staring at Citrine. She chirruped questioningly at him as he eyed her. Then he lowered his head and grunted, pawed the ground, and charged head first at the larger dragon's feet. Citrine screeched at the sudden onslaught and danced up in the air trying to step out of the angry dragon's reach. The box muzzle butted up on her ankles.

"Quiet!" Rannow hissed. Her eyes grew wide as she glimpsed a light from a lantern flicker on in her house and start moving room to room toward the door. Her heart started racing even faster than before, and she thumped Citrine on the sides urgently. "Grab him! We gotta fly outta here now!" she said in the loudest whisper she could muster. The good-natured yellow dragon was starting to get annoyed at the small, bald dragon and stuck her foot out and held him back as he dug furrows in the ground with his little feet. "That's it! Hold him! Pick him up!" Citrine glanced back at the anxious human, not quite understanding what her excited gesturing and chatter meant. But as the girl kept pointing upward with urgency, she turned to look up into the sky. The dragon felt some invisible pull upwards. She suddenly crouched low to the ground, stepping all over the irate little Jabberjaw and gripping him, then using him and the ground as a launch pad. She barely got airborne, but pumped her wings hard and slowly lifted up into the air, higher and higher, just as a silhouette appeared in the doorway of Rannow's family home. It grew smaller and smaller until it was nothing more than a dim light amongst a freckling of pin pricks across the landscape of the Northern Markets.

Somehow Rannow was able to nudge and point and lean on Citrine to go in the right direction, according to the small compass and crude map Amos had given her. At least she hoped so. Bramble had quieted down with his nose turned up in the air and his fins spread out, as if he was imagining himself coasting through the air. Rannow hoped Citrine didn't decide to drop him, since he was so old she had no idea when the last time Bramble had gotten to fly. She hadn't ever noticed him exercising his wings either, like Citrine had instinctively done.

But even with the exercise, Citrine seemed to ever so slowly loose altitude. Rannow wasn't even sure how long they had been in the air or how far along they were to Dragon's Edge. Was that a thin glowing line on the horizon where the sky met the sea? Rannow was fairly warm, too, in the chilly air, from the heat rising up from Citrine's muscles. The dragon seemed determined, not that there was much choice at this point other than floating in the sea.

A fine opaque mist rose up from the quiet sea in patches, and Citrine almost imperceptibly lowered into it, unable to pump her wings with much strength any longer. Bramble had started quietly grumbling intermittently, but thankfully didn't struggle much. "Can you see anything yet? Any land?" Rannow whispered. She had been second-guessing her brash escape for a while now, maybe hours. Would it have really been better just to let her father take Bramble to market? Perhaps he would have if the three of them were just going to crash into the sea and very possibly drown. Die free, though? But really, Bramble was not yet truly free. Was there somewhere closer she should have asked about? Even lay over for a bit to rest?

Unfortunately, Bramble started quietly grumbling to himself, getting slowly louder, breaking the uneasy quiet. Perhaps it was because the sea was getting louder itself, making swishing noises seemingly from all directions. Rannow couldn't feel any wind stirring the air, but the last thing they needed was rough weather blowing in. "A ship," she muttered to herself, then louder, "A ship! Look for a ship to land on!" she gestured at Citrine weaving her hands in a wavy motion. The dragon canted her head back slightly to look at her with a very tired question in her eyes. "There's no land, no nothing! We don't want to die out here!" she yelled tiredly to the mist obscured sky. "Thor! Keep your storms to yourself!"

Suddenly there was a crack of lightning in front of her. "Perhaps that depends on what you are doing with chained dragons," a voice intoned, seemingly from all directions. Citrine suddenly back-winged, wobbling in the air. Bramble squealed angrily. A large Skrill, of such a dark purple it almost appeared black, appeared in the air before them. Bramble gnashed his teeth within the muzzle.

Rannow's eyes widened as round as a grinding wheel. "But ... ummm ... shouldn't you know?" she squeaked out, fearing she was talking to an avatar of Thor himself. A human figure came into view, clad in some strange suit with a mask, riding on the back of the Skrill. "Well the chains on those dragons are telling me one thing," the voice, decidedly male, said. "Oh, what? No! We are trying to find Dragon's Edge!" The rider looked at her for a moment, at least Rannow thought he was looking at her, then he gestured off to the sides. Suddenly dark figures materialized out of the fog, very close to them. A long, wiry dragon slipped up underneath them, flapping its wings sideways, and coiled its tail around Bramble and grabbed him with its rear legs. The Jabberjaw chattered angrily and tried to bang the box muzzle against the dragon's belly. As the dragon - a Grapple Grounder? - pulled Bramble from Citrine's grasp, it gave the smaller dragon a little shake and roared warningly at him. Bramble continued his tirade of draconic insults, but stayed still. There was a rider in a mask secured to a saddle on the Grapple Grounder, who appeared unbothered by the complex maneuver and new passenger of sorts.

Rannow was too tired from the trip and from the see-sawing emotions to notice that a Deadly Nadder flew up behind. She only squeaked in surprise when the dragon plucked her from Citrine's back with a vice-grip of its rear paws.

The Skrill Rider was still hovering nearby. He turned his masked head toward Rannow. "We've take you to Dragon's Edge. Then you'll tell us about these chained dragons," he stated, as he and his dragon turned into a new direction. A Zippleback materialized out of the mist and latched on to Citrine. She mustered a surprised squawk, then went limp as the strain was suddenly removed from her tired muscles. Rannow stayed silent herself, too tired to think too much. At least they weren't going to drown at sea, and these Riders were helping, weren't they?

The masked Riders did indeed take her to Dragon's Edge. Though she wasn't exactly a captive, they didn't allow her to just walk about until Bramble was unmuzzled and the iron chain she was using as a halter was unwound from Citrine's neck. Rannow explained her frenzied flight away from the Northern Markets over a bowl of warm stew. Surprisingly, while some of the Riders at the Edge that listened were jubilant at her 'rescue' of two dragons, others weren't as enthusiastic. Though none liked to see or hear of dragons used against their will, Citrine and Bramble weren't nearly as bad off as some. Those less vocal Riders, as Rannow came to find, felt that change needed to be gradual and occur through education, training, and offering alternatives to a way of life that was built on dragon drudgery.

Rannow and Citrine trained as Riders, while Bramble found a few other of his kind on the far side of the island and spent his days stomping on the beach and gnashing his teeth at the waves. Rannow was excited and happy at her new life, but in the back of her mind and heart, she felt guilty. What was happening with her family now that she took away the dragons?

About a year later, Rannow and Citrine - equipped with a fine comfortable saddle - flew out toward the Northern Markets. She had large pointy sacks afixed to the saddle. Citrine wore a simple loose rope around her neck that had a variety of dragon scales and small stones tied to it. This was her very own adornment, and served as a source for the dragon to use to produce a variety of flames that only her species could do. Following behind them were about two dozen dragon riders - Nadders, Razorwhips, and any other species that shot spines.

The sun slowly set on the horizon, making way for a crystal clear night. The moon shone brightly, illuminating the sea. The group approached the island and flew over the town. Rannow gestured down at a small bit of property. Even from above, the yard looked a bit unkempt and weedy. The yak's pen stood empty, as did Citrine's old pen. Each of the riders accompanying her swooped low and shot spine after spine into the dirt around the house. They lodged upright in the dirt like strange leaveless stalks. Citrine landed carefully amongst them and let Rannow slide from her back. She whined uncomfortably, something she hadn't done since the beginning of their time on the Edge. The dragon looked at her old pen and took one small step toward it. Ingrained habits died hard.

Rannow unhooked the bags from the saddle and started toward the door of the home. A variety of colorful scaled rounded out one bag, and the other was full of Bramble's and the other Jabberjaw's spines. The new fresh environment did the old grumpy dragon good, and his spines grew back as bright and strong as ever.

The door to the house opened and light shone in a rectangle on the ground. A large, broad-shouldered silouette moved into the light of the door.

Rannow suddenly felt awkward and anxious. "Hey, Dad," she said softly. The figure didn't reply. "I have lots of spines for you, and scales for mom," Rannow held out the bags momentarily, but when the figure didn't move again, she set them on the ground. Rannow looked around the yard, anywhere but at the open doorway. "So, Citrine is doing really well. She's really smart and has learned lots of tricks and skills. And Bramble is doing well, too. As angry as ever," the girl tried to speak conversationally, as though she hadn't been gone for a year. There was a long pause. Then the figure retreated back into the house and shut the door, leaving Rannow in the night's darkness.

The Dragons that earns their name from its rampant nature, Wild Jabbejaws knows to be one of the most agressive dragon in the world Jabberjaws are coated with sharp spines that can be release and project them to the enemies or preys, the spines contain venom that while couldn't kill, it is very painful and can be stung just by touching it, adding it up to the 'Charge and bite at everything' nature of these dragons, it is best to runaway from these dragons before they crashes into you with those painful spiky spines

Personality: As rampant as rabid bulldogs as the name suggest but their personality can varient to excited at everything like bulldog pups once tamed too

Fire Type: Weak Acetylene/Oxygen sharp charge (similar to Toothless' but way weaker and less destructive)

Hidden Abilities: Jabberjaw can only see movement and practically blind when it targets stayed still (which explain why it's so agressive at everything moving) but even without their visions it was covered up by its amazing sensing skill with its spine, a sight shift of air can be sense by its spines from miles away and not only that the spines can vibrate a silent sonar that help it sees the sorrounding all the time. It's impossible to sneak up on this dragon!

About the Jewel Spinner:

Jewel Spinners are flameless dragons with spike filled tails. They can shoot fire only if they eat a certain rock, particularly shot at from another dragon. Example.... A Night Fury shoots a rock (any type of rock) and the Jewel Spinner eats the rock or cooled coal from the dragon, they can now shoot plasma blasts. They may also eat scales, and can get skin traits of that dragon. Example.... They eat a Changewing scale, they can change their skin colour to blend into their surroundings. They may also eat a few different types of "jewels" to create combos. Example... A rock from a Monstrous Nightmare, and a rock from a Zippleback, will allow them set their bodies on fire and produce a large amount of gas at the same time. However... This only lasts a max of 30 to 60 minutes. Time period shortens when they eat more than one type of jewel before they become flameless once more.

They can send off spikes from their tail, similar to a Nadder or a Razorwhip, and smaller spikes from their lower back. They have three rows of spikes going down their mid to lower back, and head to middle of their neck. They have semi-retractable teeth, not as severe as the Night Fury's, but enough so they can close their mouth. They also have pockets in between their teeth and tongue to hold jewels which they can pop out at any time, chew up, and create any type of fire according to the jewel. Females are slightly smaller than the males, with more spikes and smaller ears. But not many differentiating designs prior to that.

They enjoy spinning while diving to shoot multiple spines at once, hence Jewel Spinner. They are sociable animals, and is friendly to most dragon breeds, but is not fond of Changewings.